Page 20 of Miss Humbug
True. And then our arrangement would cement in place. This whole fake dating situation should be easy, given it was Ethan. My family knew and loved him already.
Then again,my family knew and loved him. If they uncovered our dating was an act, the betrayal would cut that much deeper. Not to mention their reaction to selling him a chunk of Holly land.
Because we were going to win this thing.
The judges, now seated on benches along the inner portion of sidewalk in town square, reviewed our scavenger hunt answers and the location stamps we’d procured from various shops. Yep, Grans had gotten the town involved in her game, though they didn’t know the real reason we were competing.
In fact, some of the shopkeepers slowed us down. Crystal Clean Cleaners, owned by a friend of Grans, wanted my life story since age eighteen (because she knew everything prior). The gift shop clerk questioned Ethan about the hours for the tree lot and asked after his parents.
But honestly, I enjoyed seeing my hometown through my niece and her puppy’s—er, her brother’s eyes. Things seemed innocent again and untainted with the distance of time. The kids insisted they narrate every aspect of downtown since I hadn’t been home in forever.
Yeowch, way to hit me with guilt square in the chest. Over two years since I’d last been home, and short, sparse visits in the years prior. I hadn’t considered living in California as hiding from my family. I’d just been busy. Really, really busy.
Not avoiding.Busy.
Grans requested a photo of everyone. Corralling the group took effort. Grans being the worst offender as she kept dipping out of the frame to wave at people or give instructions to the picture takers.
Streetlamps flicked on around town square. We still had time to kill before the big tree hogged all the attention, so Ethan and I left in search of food, with strict orders to report back by Grans’ appointed time.
“Thanks for being such a sport,” I told Ethan. “What about your job? Don’t you have to sell Christmas trees?”
“Rob’s covering tonight at the farm. We have hired help at the other lot.”
“Maybe I’ll get bonus points for picking up a tree for the house. You got any good ones?”
He patted his chest. “The best. Just call me the Tree Daddy.”
I snorted. “I willnot.”
“Hey. It’s actually tough to gauge the right tree size for the space. People go too big or too small. It’s a practiced art.”
“I’m not calling you daddy.”
“I saidTree Daddy.”
Our walk ended at a line of food trucks at the cross street bordering the square. Barriers closed off the street to traffic with an array of picnic tables stationed across from the trucks. We bought BBQ and gourmet grilled cheeses and stuffed our faces. No regrets.
At least six people stopped to say hello. Most talked directly to Ethan, but a few recognized me, including my fourth-grade teacher and one of Grans’ friends from her Jazzercize days.
After the last friendly chatterer, I had to say something. “You knoweverybody.”
“That’s small-town life for you.” He took my trash along with his and tossed it in a nearby bin. “If you get the house, does that mean you’ll live in it?”
Great question. Pertinent. Essential. I hopped up from the picnic table, freeing it for a family of five and walked beside Ethan away from the crowd. “I dunno.” I winced at my own answer. “Sorry. All this came at me fast. I don’t know yet. I haven’t told my family this, but…I lost my job.”
He slowed his pace. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
I blew out a light breath. “Layoffs. Your standard-issue, time to cut ten percent of the work force after the merger they promised wouldn’t lead to job cuts. Never mind I had excellent performance ratings and worked overtime without being asked. It meant nothing to them. You know what they said to me?” My heartbeat increased revisiting the experience. “You’re young. You’ll bounce back.”
Ethan visibly winced. “I’m sorry. Do you…have anyone in California?”
“My roommate, Anna. She’s a keeper.”
He remained quiet.
I filled in the blanks. “I don’t have anyone else. Like, a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. I worked too much to have time for much more.” I tried to make light of it, but who was I kidding? “I actually went to career seminars on weekends. I did meet-up groups to learn about corporate networking. Pretty pathetic.”
“How can they cut someone who spent so much time trying to be a good employee?” He shook his head. “That’s why I like working with my hands. It seems easier to see work needing to be done and do it.”
